


Donald Strachey's Wonderful Life

by lil_1337



Category: Donald Strachey Mysteries (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-07
Updated: 2009-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-06 23:49:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_1337/pseuds/lil_1337
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://tim-don-a-thon.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://tim-don-a-thon.livejournal.com/"><b>tim_don_a_thon</b></a>.  The morning after the end of 'Shock to the System' Donald tells Timothy about his strange dream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Donald Strachey's Wonderful Life

It was late morning when Donald stumbled down the stairs in search of a cup of coffee. The last week had been emotionally draining with dealing with the Paul Hale case and all the memories it had dredged up. Now that Katie was behind bars and the ghost of Kyle at peace, at least for the moment, Donald had grabbed at the chance to sleep as long as he wanted and was now feeling better, but with the edge of grogginess that came from too many hours asleep and too little caffeine circulating in his system.

Shoulders hunched with his robe pulled tight around him, Donald found his seat at the breakfast bar more by habit than actual awareness of his surroundings. He seated himself and grunted an acknowledgement when Timmy, still in his robe and looking well fucked, moved towards the coffee maker to pour a steaming cup. Donald sniffed the air, feeling more alert just from the aroma. He flashed Timmy a million watt smile when a warm mug made its way into his hands. With the first sip Donald sighed and made a happy noise, indicating his pleasure in the brew and the universe at large.

Donald took another long sip, holding the cup clutched in his hands as if close enough proximity would allow him to absorb it through his pores. After a minute the caffeine started to kick in and he began to pull out of his hunchbacked pose. His spine straightened and his shoulders dropped to their normal position; the huddled old man opening up to reveal the still young detective hidden inside.

"Welcome back to the land of the living. You've been missed here." Timothy set his plate down and kissed Donald solidly before moving around his partner so he could pull loose the end of gauze covering the wound on Donald's shoulder. Timothy nodded, apparently pleased by what he saw while pointedly ignoring the frown that was aimed his way. "It seems to be healing. In a few weeks you'll have another sexy scar to show off at the gym." After planting a light kiss on the top of Donald's head, Timothy settled himself in his seat and picked up his fork. "How did you sleep? You were snoring and drooling when I got up."

"I don't snore or drool." Donald added a disbelieving snort to emphasize his words. "I had the strangest dream though. Do remember last night? When we were in the tub?"

Timothy sipped his coffee, nodding when he found it was to his liking. "I'm a little too young for senile dementia despite what Kenny might think and to my knowledge I haven't suffered a blow to the head so yes, it's safe to assume that I remember that."

Donald raised an eyebrow and popped a grape in his mouth, chewing slowly. "Kenny has no appreciation for the fact that good men, like good wine, have to be aged to perfection." Noting Timothy's blush and smile, Donald continued. "I think it came from what we were talking about."

"We were talking?" Timothy leered over the rim of his coffee cup. "I don't remember much conversation beyond 'right there, baby' and 'God, yeah."

Donald smirked; it always gave him a thrill knowing that he could bring out the carnal and cruder man that lurked under Timothy's usual reserve. Most people would have been surprised to find out that Timothy Callahan was a passionate and tender lover, but Donald had expected nothing less after getting to know the man. "When you first came in with the martinis and told me about how your life would different if we had never met. Before you joined me in the tub."

"Ah, yes, right. I remember that as well." Timothy took a bite of his eggs and nodded. "So, what was the dream about?"

"It was strange." Donald set his fork down and rested his elbows on the counter, cradling his chin in his hands. His eyes glazed and lost focus as he looked over Timothy's shoulder at a spot somewhere past him. "I was back in my old apartment. The one on Morton that I lived in until I moved into your place."

"How could I forget it? You used to use the oven to heat it because your landlord refused to turn on the heat before October 15th regardless of what the temperature was outside."

"Yeah, that's the one." Donald grinned sheepishly. "It looked the same as it did then except the newspapers that I kept for research were next to the daybed instead of in the office."

Timothy smiled, amused, and gestured for Donald to continue as he leaned back and sipped his coffee. "So you had gone back in time? Did you still have that horrible sport coat you were wearing when we met?"

"That's the strange part." Donald frowned, his brow furrowing as he tried to recall the details that were already starting to fade. "I hadn't. I remember seeing myself in the mirror and I look like I do now. That and the date on the top newspaper was yesterday. The headline was something about Paul Hale's death being determined to be a murder."

"We were living in that tiny apartment and back to sleeping on your daybed again?" Timothy frowned, his disapproval of this arrangement clear on his face. His frown deepened at the guilty look that passed over Donald's face. "I wasn't there, was I?" Donald flinched at the sadness and hurt in Timothy's voice, all too familiar after their recent fight.

"No. It was like we had never met. I was living alone and had the same life I did back when I was single. The place was a mess, there were dirty clothes everywhere, my fridge was empty and I had two dollars in my checking account."

"That's how you see me?" Timothy stiffened, the hurt turning to indignation. "Someone who does the laundry, buys groceries, and balances the checkbook?"

"No! No, that wasn't it. Everything was a mess and I kept going from room to room trying to find something important that was missing. I didn't know what it was, just that I needed it more than I had ever needed anything. Like the Rosetta Stone for my life. If I had that then everything else would fall into place." Donald's gaze shifted coming to rest on Timothy's face. "It made me start thinking."

"None of that, Donald, we agreed." Timothy's mug hit the counter with a solid thump that matched the darkening expression on his face.

"This is good. I promise." Donald smiled and reached over to squeeze Timothy's hand. "If you had never met me you wouldn't know about gun shot wounds or what it was like to have your life threatened. That's all things you could have lived without, right?"

"Ye~s" Timothy's answer was slow and drawn out as if being pulled from him physically. "Though I prefer to think of them as life enriching experiences that have broadened my horizons and expanded my knowledge of the world around me."

"You've been spending too much time with the senator. You've learned to put a spin on everything." Donald laughed then sobered. "You've given me so much more, Timmy. I have a home and a life I would never have bothered to make for myself. Before we met it didn't matter where I slept. You make it all mean something." Donald gestured to indicate the house and a dozing Dr. Watson. "I'm not just getting through each day by spying on cheating housewives and eating peanut butter out of the jar." At Timmy's raised eyebrow and pointed look Donald sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "What I mean is I'm doing that so I can eat /our/ peanut butter out of the jar here, in our house, with you. That makes it the best damn peanut butter in the world because I'm sharing it with you."

"Oh, Donald." Timothy's expression softened and his hand came up to cup Donald's face. "There are so many other things I never would have known, like being loved and respected for who I am, if we had never met. You've shown me the joys of being in a committed nurturing relationship. You bring so much more than the occupational hazards of being Sparky the Gay Detective."

Donald smiled, leaning into Timothy's touch and feeling more settled than he had since waking up that morning. With a teasing lilt to his voice that mocked Timothy's upper class diction, Donald made as if tightening his tie and corrected "Private Investiga~tor."


End file.
